


Meatball

by SmileAndASong



Category: Marvel, Marvel Ultimate Universe, Marvel Ultimates
Genre: 1940s slang, Clubbing, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Jealous Steve Rogers, Jealousy, M/M, Slang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 18:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19340584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmileAndASong/pseuds/SmileAndASong
Summary: Steve Rogers has some choice words for the punk who decided to grab his boyfriend’s ass.





	Meatball

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday gift for my good friend [sundaecherries](https://sundaecherries.tumblr.com/) who likes it when Ults!Steve[ calls people meatball.](https://66.media.tumblr.com/b1838e4c8ee202cf127cc71cc80caaeb/tumblr_prnic65JM61ucyzvxo1_1280.png) And yeah, I do too, and I got to thinking that Tony probably does as well! 
> 
> Fic is unbeta'd and was written very quickly, so I apologize for any mistakes. 
> 
> Happy birthday, Cherries! I hope you like this little slice of ridiculousness : )

“I hate it,” Steve said decidedly, as he looked out the car window and into the brightly colored neon lights of what was supposedly the newest and hottest nightclub in New York.

“How can you possibly hate it already?” Tony asked, putting the car in park. “We haven’t even gone inside yet.”

“I can just tell,” Steve said, his nose scrunching up tightly. “It’s too loud, too bright, and too crowded.” 

“That’s sort of the point of a nightclub, darling,” Tony said, shaking his head and unbuckling his seatbelt. “I know this isn’t your thing, but remember, I did play bridge with you and Bucky on Wednesday night, and that was not my thing at all. So now it’s my turn. Besides, it is still my birthday.” 

“You birthday was two weeks ago.”

“Yes, but it’s still my birthday month, so I’m well within the realm of warranted celebrations.”

Steve was about to tell Tony that’s not how birthdays worked, but his boyfriend was out of the car before he got the chance. He begrudgingly did the same, clamoring out of the car and following behind Tony. 

He waited impatiently for Tony to finish sorting out the valet parking situation (you parked the damn car, what the hell was this guy freaking out about?) and was relieved when the frantic teenager finally took the keys to Tony’s Lamborghini. Sliding an arm around Tony’s waist, they headed toward the entrance of the club. 

There was a long line of people waiting to get in, but all Tony had to do was give a small nod and a cheeky wink, and the bouncer dropped the rope for them. He even flashed a smile their way, but Steve had a feeling that was because of the appreciative ‘handshake’ Tony gave him as they slipped in.

The club was even worse on the inside, just as Steve had anticipated it would be. It was dark, save for those same, tacky neon lights that adorned the entrance, and Steve could barely move a foot without bumping into one of the countless dancing patrons. 

The ‘dancing’ seemed to be a lot of grabbing and rubbing up against one another, all the while moving in time with the robotic sounding music. A far cry from the swing dances that he used to partake in with Gail, that’s for sure.

“This way, darling!” Steve heard Tony say, his voice just barely audible over the ‘music’. Thankfully, Tony took his hand and led the way effortlessly through the club and toward the bar. 

Because Tony Stark’s first priority was always getting a drink in his hand.

The bar area was less crowded, much to Steve’s relief, and it was the slightest bit quieter too. Or it was, until the piercing scream of someone yelling Tony’s name interrupted it. Wincing, Steve turned around to see a small cluster of people had formed around his boyfriend.

The small group started to migrate toward the dance floor, and Tony shot Steve a look, a silent asking for permission to go. Steve simply waved him off, not particularly fazed by this. He had more or less grown used to and accepted the burden of having a socialite boyfriend. 

And if it meant he didn’t have to step foot onto the fiery pit of hell that was the dance floor, then Steve was more than okay with it.

Tony smiled appreciatively and mimed the motion of taking a drink, looking at Steve expectantly.

Steve rolled his eyes, but obliged, and went to the bar and ordered one of Tony’s usuals: a dirty martini with extra olives, along with a simple beer for himself.

He scoffed at the absurdly high price the bartender gave him for the drinks. Sure, he was using Tony’s credit card to pay for it, but sixty-one dollars for two drinks seemed unreasonably high for even twenty-first century standards. 

It was as if the place was _trying_ to do everything possible to ensure that Steve absolutely detested it.

Taking the drinks and tipping the bartender, Steve breathed in deeply before braving the chaotic, bustling crowd. He searched for Tony, moving as swiftly as he could, all the while trying not to bump into anyone or spill the drinks. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he caught sight of Tony, who was dancing innocently enough with a small group of ladies. Unbeknownst to Tony, there was a man behind him, dancing far too close for Steve’s liking and with a look in his eye that was anything but innocent. 

But before Steve could even get over there and intervene, the punk grabbed Tony’s ass and squeezed it.

Oh _hell_ no.

Slamming sixty-one dollars worth of drinks to the ground in a loud clatter, Steve bolted over and yanked the man by the shoulder. In one swift motion, Steve whipped him around and decked him in the face, exerting enough force to knock him down to the ground.

“Don’t you _ever_ try and pull that bullshit again, ya meatball!” Steve yelled, leaning down to punch him once more for good measure.

He turned back to Tony, sliding an arm around him and guiding him to a quiet(er) area to try and calm him down, as well as slip away before anyone figured out that he had just knocked someone out. “Are you alright, Tony?”

“Yes, I’m fine, but Steve…” Tony paused, biting down on his lip and looking like he was struggling to speak. 

Poor Tony; he was so overwhelmed and traumatized by the whole thing that he, the man who always knew what to say and how to say it, was at a loss of words. 

But then, Tony's lips curled up into a smirk and he looked like he was stifling back a laugh. Steve’s brow furrowed. What could be so funny about this?

“...did you just call that guy ‘meatball’?” Tony asked, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Well, yes. He is one,” Steve said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Tony snickered. “Please, educate me, what exactly _is_ a meatball?”

Steve huffed, stubbornly crossing his arms. Of course this would be what Tony decided to fixate on. “You know, you’ve got a real funny way of saying ‘thanks for knocking out a pervert for me, Steve’.”

“Sorry, let me try again.” Tony cleared his throat and threw himself in Steve’s arms. “Golly gee, thank you for socking that ol’ meatball in the jaw! Boy howdy, I’m so lucky to have a swell guy like you as my man.” Tony kissed Steve on the cheek, a smug look on his face as he pulled back. “Better?”

“Hardly,” Steve grunted. “But you know what would be better? If we got the hell out of here.”

“Alright, fine, we can go. Too many meatballs here anyway.”

“...you’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope!” Tony chirped, smiling up at Steve. “It may very well be one of the most adorable things you’ve ever said, and the fact that you said it after punching some gross pervert to defend my honor? Absolute perfection.” He leaned in and kissed Steve softly on the lips. “I love you.”

Steve returned the kiss, smiling as he pulled back. “I love you too.” His face hardened back into its usual serious expression and he looked Tony in the eye. “But next time, we stay home and play bridge with Bucky. I’m done with these stupid clubs”

Tony chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Fine, but if that’s the case, then you owe me one dance before we go.”

Steve raised an eyebrow and looked at his boyfriend skeptically. “I don’t dance, Tony.”

“It’s okay, neither do I,” Tony winked at him and took his hand. “Come on, darling, let me show you how it’s done.”

Steve smirked knowingly, allowing Tony to whisk him back onto the dance-floor. He had a strong inkling that whatever Tony was going to ‘show’ him would hardly qualify as dancing. 

But Steve didn't mind in the slightest.


End file.
